CHAPTER 55: AWAKENINGS

In which Aviva receives several surprises.


The Vice-President's cat was riding on Aviva's shoulder, purring loudly and tickling her ear with its whiskery face. It felt nice – very nice, in a shivery, tingly way – but odd, because normally Mr Rufus' cat refused to let anyone but its master pick it up. Even before it had been Rufus's cat, when it was still the departmental cat, it had never been so openly affectionate with her, or anyone. The only reason it was cuddling with her now, then, must be because this was a dream -

Her eyes flew open and she was instantly wide awake, unsure of where she was but all too terrifyingly conscious of the other body, warm and solid, wrapped around her own. She would have screamed and lunged for her gun, but panic had locked her limbs. She couldn't breathe.

"Nnngh?" said Reno's voice in her ear.

Had it been any other man, she'd have driven an elbow straight into his ribs. Two things stopped her. The first was the fact that when she realised the man in her bed was Reno, she let go of the breath she'd been holding and, on a reflex, inhaled deeply, flooding her senses with the mingled smells of ozone, tobacco, and his sharp sweat, scents uniquely associated in her subconscious mind – and in her consciousness – with safety. Her muscles instinctively relaxed.

The second thing that stopped her from shoving him out of her bed was the realisation that he was still fast asleep.

He'd snuggled himself up tightly against her back, burying his face in the crook of her neck. One arm lay draped around her waist; the other was doubled up between their two bodies, long fingers splayed against her shoulder. His whiffling snores, right in her ear, sounded just like a cat's purr.

Holding herself very still, Aviva tried to work out what must have happened. Had Reno been sleepwalking? Or had he woken up disoriented by the lingering traces of Confuse in his bloodstream, seen a body in the other bed and, not remembering anything of how he'd got here, assumed… well, the obvious.

Oh, god – this was what came of succumbing to devilish curiosity! His little animal had been quietly minding its own business, not bothering anybody, and then she'd had to go and wake it up. And (oh, she realised, so that's why I was dreaming about the V.P.'s cat!) so, as little animals are wont to do, it had followed her blindly home - and now what was she going to do? For the moment, judging by the feel of things - because she certainly wasn't going to risk taking another look - it was snoozing peacefully beside her, just like its owner. Hopefully, as long as she didn't make any rash movements, it would stay that way.

What time was it? Her PHS was in her jacket, out of reach. Wall Market's nightlife was going full throttle outside the window, so it was probably the middle of the night. Morning was hours away. She couldn't lie like this till then. She'd have to move. If she was careful, she might be able to disentangle herself from his limbs without waking him. He could have this bed. She'd take his. When morning came he wouldn't know he was in her bed because he wouldn't remember that Rude had put him in the other bed first. She could get into his bed and pretend it had been hers all along. That would be the best thing to do.

Very, very slowly she began to raise herself on one elbow, using the other elbow to nudge his arm loose, gently, gently –

"Nnngh," he complained, wrapping his arm more firmly around her, and pulling her tighter against his chest.

Ok then, she thought, give it five minutes.

Any longer than that, and she might really fall asleep. He was so warm, and he smelt so good. With every moment that passed, her limbs felt less inclined to move. How long ago had he come into her bed? For all she knew, it could have been hours, and she'd been asleep all that time, missing out. Five minutes wasn't so much to ask. Five minutes to luxuriate in the sensation of being wrapped up in Reno like… like a small package tied with a big red ribbon. A gift - yes, that's what this was, a little surprise gift. She'd give herself five minutes to enjoy it. Then she would definitely move.

The whole situation felt so unreal, Aviva would have pinched herself to make sure she wasn't still dreaming – except, if this was a dream, she didn't want to wake up. How could someone so skinny be so comfortable? The sensation of being pressed against his chest was a revelation: it didn't make her feel trapped at all, but protected. Treasured. Even though he was fast asleep, and obviously wasn't doing it on purpose, she liked the way his arm had tightened round her like she was something he wanted to keep. He was holding on to her, not she clinging to him the way it usually went.

If only it could be like this for real, for always.

Cradled in a bubble of perfect happiness, Aviva closed her eyes. It didn't matter that the bubble would inevitably burst. She was good at pretending. All she had to do was stay awake. If she fell asleep now, and he woke up first to find her slumbering in his arms… god, how excruciatingly embarrassing would that be? He might even think that she was the one who had crawled into his bed -

Unless…

(an audacious thought was forming in her mind)

… Unless he actually wanted her there.

… !

Was that possible?

The human mind was such a complicated organ. On a conscious level, of course he didn't know what he was doing; Aviva understood that. But - but - what if she wasn't the only one whose subconscious was at work here tonight? He'd always thought of her as a kid, but…

She'd wasn't.

She'd stopped being a kid a long time ago, and maybe, somewhere in the deepest folds of his mind, where he put the things he didn't want to think about, he knew it.

Surely, surely, no love could burn so steadily and so brightly for as long as hers had done, without catching an answering spark in the soul of the beloved? When he was awake he was too busy thinking about other things, but when he was asleep, and his guard was down, the truth found its way to the surface.

He was the one who'd come to her bed.

Awake or asleep, a man's mind - and heart - were still his own. Dreams (Aviva was an expert on this) revealed to the dreamer his secret desires; the dreaming feet of a sleepwalker would only take him where he wanted to go.

He could have any woman, self-doubt whispered. Why would he want you?

Because, she thought defiantly, I love him. And I understand him.

Over the years he'd tried all sorts of women, and none of them had lasted, none of them were what he wanted. Except -

But he'd said he didn't care about Cissnei any more - said it like he really meant it. He could easily have gone back to HQ and seen her, if that's what he wanted. Aviva had been expecting him to do just that. Probably everybody else had been expecting it, too. But he'd confounded them. And he hadn't told Aviva to fuck off when she got into the helicopter with him, either. If he'd wanted some other girl, he could have flown off by himself and found one. Instead, he'd taken Aviva with him. She was the one he'd wanted to be with on this strange and terrible and wonderful night. Just her. No one else. That was why he'd been annoyed when Rude joined them, and punished her with the hurtful quip about the lollipop – because she'd stupidly screwed everything up. He'd wanted to be alone with her. God, why hadn't she seen it earlier?

They'd always been friends, hadn't they? He'd known all about her, but it hadn't mattered to him, because he'd been able to see past that. Right from the start he'd liked her and stuck up for her. And just as children grow, but stay children in their parents' eyes, what could be more natural than for that liking to grow into something bigger than friendship, without him realizing it?

He'd said she was 'fit' tonight. 'Fit' and 'not ugly', which, translated from Reno-speak, meant 'really quite attractive', or even 'pretty', because everybody knew that Reno didn't do compliments in the ordinary run of things.

And the way he was taking all that stuff from his pockets and lining it up on the table right in front of her – she'd known he was trying to tell her something important, something he couldn't communicate in words. And he'd been so attentive to her all evening, trying to keep her mind off the events of the afternoon. He'd said he was proud of her when she won her game of pool. And he'd got that plush blue moogle from the claw machine for her –

Aviva startled. The moogle! Where had she left it?

"Mmnn," Reno muttered, shifting his weight and repositioning his limbs. "Don't go." His mouth, pressed against the skin of her neck, curved up in a smile. One hand lazily stroked her shoulder; the other had slipped down to burrow between her bare legs. She caught her breath. For a moment his hand simply lay there, burning. All thoughts of moogles and lollipops, of anything other than Reno, scattered and flew away; all she knew was the weight and shape and heat of his hand, its intrusion into her carefully-guarded privacy.

Languorous fingertips caressed her thigh. Her heart missed a beat. That beat seemed to last forever. The world stood still.

Something nobby-headed, velvet-skinned, nudged her buttock, once, twice, as if trying to get her attention. The little animal was rousing itself, stretching, stiffening. With a great thump, Aviva's heart began to race so violently it seemed to have leapt out of her chest and got stuck, throbbing, in her throat. Fear hardly had anything to do with it. Her heart always speeded up, and she always had trouble remembering to breathe, when he got too close – but the sensations rushing through her body now were things she had previously only dreamt of in mako-fuelled hallucinations.

"Reno – " she whispered.

She wished he'd relax his hold just a little, just enough to let her turn round. She wanted to see his face, and be sure that he was seeing hers.

He nuzzled the nape of her neck. "Mmn?"

"Reno, it's me."

"It was always you, babe."

The fingers that had been setting her thighs on fire slid up over her belly, and found their way inside her shirt. "You're dressed?" he said, sounding surprised .

"I – oh," she sighed as his hand closed round her breast.

"Such great tits," he murmured, kissing her ear.

Her skin was too tight, too hot. Her breasts ached. She felt like she was suffocating, exquisitely. There was no question of resistance. Her bones had softened; she couldn't keep her knees together. She was melting from the inside out. If only he'd put his hand down there again -

"I knew you'd come back," he breathed against her cheek. "I missed you so much, Cissnei."


We all saw that coming, didn't we?